


Condensation

by BookishCas



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Dean, M/M, PWP, Rough Sex, Top Castiel, Topping from the Bottom, basically just porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-22
Updated: 2014-03-22
Packaged: 2018-01-16 15:06:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1351852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BookishCas/pseuds/BookishCas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas makes assumptions. Dean corrects them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Condensation

Dean tips his chair back on two legs and rolls his beer around in his hands, wiping away the liquid that had beaded up on the sides. He hates condensation.

“Dean, it is okay to be the naturally submissive member in a relationship. It only makes sense, as I _am_ more powerful than you.”

Did he say condensation? He meant condescension.

“That is bullshit and you know it, Cas.”

Cas just gives him that maddeningly smug half smile he’s become so fond of when they have this conversation.

Dean regrets the day that he decided he was done with explaining shit like “rimming” and “cumshots” and “fisting” to Cas, because that was the same day he pointed Cas toward Urban Dictionary for all the answers to his dumbass uncomfortable questions.

Unfortunately, Cas had gone beyond the scope of his questions (stupid inquisitive angel nature) and found that the internet’s idea of “bottoms” in general was... less than masculine.

And damn it all if Dean isn’t manly as hell.

So now he’s sitting in the kitchen of the bunker _trying_ to enjoy a little relaxation time while Cas leans against a counter and acts all smugly _superior_ about how Dean enjoys taking it up the ass.

“Dean, you don’t have to explain yourself to me. I understand that you prefer to be more… _meek_ in bed. I accept you as you are completely.”

Dean slams his beer down on the table.

All right, that’s fuckin’ it.

He stands up quickly, his chair screeching back on the tile, and stalks towards Cas. Cas, who still has that irritating “I accept you for the needy bottom bitch you are, Dean” look on his face, even as Dean’s stalking toward him.

Dean will fix that.

He yanks the angel down by his tie and kisses him _filthily_ , licking his way into Cas’ mouth. Teeth and tongue clash together as he invades Cas’ space, pushing him back against the counter until he’s trapped there. Dean’s boxing him in, arms now on either side of the angel as he tongue fucks him like it’s his goddamn _job_.

Cas moans softly, tries to cup Dean’s face in his hands and gentle the kiss, but Dean is having _none_ of that tender bullshit right now, not when he’s trying to prove his goddamn point. He slaps the angel’s hands away and tangles a hand in Cas’ hair, yanking his head back roughly so he can litter sucking kisses on the column of his neck. He part’s Cas’ thighs with his leg and presses in ruthlessly, snarling his satisfaction at the way Cas ruts almost helplessly against his thigh.

Cas doesn’t have a smug look on his face anymore, Dean notes with satisfaction. His expression is fucking _lost_ , mouth open and eyes rolling back when Dean sucks a hickey into his collarbone.

That’s right, _fucker_.

Dean yanks Cas by his tie again and decides that he really likes the stupid improperly tied monstrosity if it means he can manhandle Cas like this. He pushes Cas out of the kitchen into the hallway, not even giving him a chance to take a breath before he’s on him again, thigh grinding into his erection, sucking filthily on an earlobe.

He pushes Cas’ trench coat off his shoulders, and watches in satisfaction as Cas’ hands get tangled in the coat as he desperately tries to shuck the garment. Instead of helping, he pushes Cas into a wall, trapping his hands and coat behind him effectively. Dean nips up Cas’ jawline to the sensitive spot just behind his ear and sucks. Hard.

Cas hisses out a breath, and _groans_. He’s still struggling with the coat, and Dean can tell he’s about to use his Grace to mojo himself out of the tangle he got himself into so he grabs his chin.

“Hey, no cheating,” he says sternly, punctuating his words with a hard kiss. His hips roll dirtily, wringing more delicious noises out of Cas.

Their pace down the hallway is stilted, what with Cas twisted up in his coat and Dean shoving him up against a wall every three feet to molest him thoroughly. When Dean pulls Cas’ collar aside to suck another hickey onto his trapezius, Cas decides to open his mouth again. “Dean, your posturing is pleasant, but unnecessary. There’s really no need for you to-“

Dean silences him with a bruising kiss, and then shoves him further down the hallway toward the door to his room. He smirks in satisfaction when Cas stumbles backward, hindered by his coat, before he presses him against the door frame.

“I’m sorry,” Dean growls “I can’t hear you over the sound of how _submissive_ and _meek_ I am.”

Cas huffs out what sounds suspiciously like a laugh, so Dean bunches his hands in his shirt and yanks him forward for another punishing kiss before he shoves him onto the bed.

Cas bounces comically, and finally manages to get his arms free of his coat. He casts it, as well as his jacket, over the side of the bed and begins to yank on his tie.

Dean climbs onto the bed and slaps Cas’ hand away from the tie. “ _No._ That’s staying”. He ignores the confused look Cas shoots him in favor of pulling Cas’ collar out from under the tie and yanking his shirt open, may the buttons rest in peace. He moves quickly to Cas’ belt, and has him stripped from the waist down in no time at all. 

Cas looks sloppy and beautiful this way, hickeys blooming on the flesh peeking out over his open shirt and tie hanging loosely around his neck. Precome weeps from his cockhead, which is nearly purple with arousal. Reluctantly, Dean pulls back from the pretty sight, and scrabbles around in the bedside table for lube.

” _Dean,”_ Cas gasps out, and the tone of his voice has Dean’s head whipping around. Cas is touching himself, hips thrusting up languidly into the hand pumping between his legs, his eyes rolling around to lock with Dean’s.

_Christ_.

Finding the lube, Dean just barely manages to keep his composure and remember that he’s _trying to make a fucking point here_ and moves back to the center of the bed, kneeling beside his angel.

“Now,” Dean says, teasingly, “looks like you’re getting started before I’m ready. We can’t have _that_ , can we?”

Quickly, Dean coats a hand with lube. “You’re just going to have to be patient while I catch up.”

Cas moans unhappily when Dean bundles his wrists together and pulls them above his head, but doesn’t fight it. Apparently he’s decided that leaving himself untouched is okay as long as he can watch Dean open himself up like he’s doing now.

Dean, aware of Cas’ gaze boring into him, maybe puts on a bit of a show.  

“Ung, fuck, s’good, Cas, so good, _oh_ , feels _wonderful_. Ah, _love_ the stretch. Sometimes I swear I could come from, _uhh,_ from just this alone.”

Cas makes an unhappy noise at that, and Dean huffs out a laugh.

“Bet you’d just _hate_ that, wouldn’t you, angel?” he bites back a moan in favor of ribbing Cas. “What if I finished right here, and left you hanging out to dry?”

Cas makes an adorably distraught noise at that, and then attempts to counteract it by growling at Dean.

“You _wouldn’t.”_

Dean laughs. “Another time, maybe. Right now I’m teaching you a valuable lesson about assumptions.”

Deeming himself ready, Dean pulls his fingers out of himself and uses the remaining lube to slick up Cas’ dick. He delights when Cas arches into even that perfunctory touch. His angel is starving for it, smug sense of superiority long forgotten.

That doesn’t mean Dean is going to go easy on him, however.

He swings his leg over Cas, straddling him handily. He continues to hold Cas’ wrists down in one hand, and uses the other for support as he suspends himself over Cas’ Cock. He teases his entrance with the blunt head, grinning when Cas hips stutter forward.

“Uh uh, angel. We’re going at _my_ pace.”

That’s all the warning the hunter gives before he let himself drop, sheathing Cas inside himself in one fluid motion. Cas groans and his hips _jerk,_ the motion halted by Dean’s weight.

Dean shifts lazily, but doesn’t allow Cas any give. Cas’ position doesn’t allow him to do anything besides take anything Dean decides to give him. Dean wonders idly how long he can sit here before Cas gets antsy.

Approximately two minutes later, Cas swears at him.

“ _Fucking move.”_ Cas bites out, hips twitching with barely suppressed movement. “Or I’ll _make_ you.”

Dean chuckles lowly. “You’d have to cheat to do that, angel, what with the game we’re playing.”

Truth was, without his mojo, Cas can’t make Dean do a damn thing from his prone position.

The position of power is intoxicating.

Dean shifts up and rapidly slams back down, wringing a choked off gasp from Cas. He repeats the motion, grinning wolfishly at the way Cas pants.

Dean builds his way up to a punishing pace, fucking down onto Cas dick enthusiastically. The hand not pinning Cas’ wrists tangles in the sheets, allowing him leverage.

Dean’s movement has the headboard slamming into the wall, although he pays it no mind in favor of thoroughly enjoying the way Cas is coming undone beneath him. Cas looks thoroughly debauched, lips parted and head tilted back, breathy little moans escaping him every time Dean presses down.

_Beautiful_

Dean slows, favoring technique in lieu of speed. Shifting slightly, he drives down again, stars flashing behind his eyes as the different position strikes his prostate perfectly. He repeats the motion, sighing happily as he lines it up perfectly for that heady feeling, and untangles his hand from the sheet so he can tug on his own dick.

Cas makes a broken noise, and flexes his arms under Dean’s grip. Dean looks up.

Cas’ clear blue eyes are trained on the movement of his hand as he pumps himself. The angel licks his lips, and lets out a breath. Dean grins. His angel is totally a secret cockslut.

The combination of Cas’ dick hammering at his prostate and Dean’s hand around his dick has him losing it rapidly, vision whiting out as he comes.

“Fuck, _Cas_ ,”

Dean releases Cas’ wrists as he rides out his orgasm, and Cas hands immediately find his hips. Fingers digging into the skin, Cas thrusts up a handful of times before he’s coming too, a broken ” _Dean”_ falling from his lips.

Dean grins, satisfied. He rolls off of Cas, pulling free with a dirty _schlick_ as he collapses on the bed next to his angel.

“How’s that for _meek_ , huh?” he gloats, after the afterglow had faded slightly.

Cas chuckles and stretches languidly, uncaring of the mess Dean made on his stomach. “Yes, Dean, you certainly convinced me of your masculinity. Good job.”

Dean side eyes him, before sitting up with the realization.

“You _baited_ me, you complete _dick_!”

Cas neatly hides a smile.

“I would never.”

Dean flops back, exasperated.

“You little… Fuck you! You can clean up, asshole.” He throws an arm over his face in overplayed irritation.

Cas laughs, and goes to do as he’s bid. Dean watches him go from under his arm, a soft smile gracing his features.


End file.
